Revenge from Beyond the Containment Unit
by Twilight Fang
Summary: An angry ghost wanting revenge on Peter targets the person most important to him, Egon. Peter is forced to choose between keeping his feelings a secret or confessing in order to protect Egon.Peter x Egon slash. Please don't read if this offends you.
1. Chapter 1

**Revenge from Beyond the Containment Unit******

Disclaimer: The Real Ghostbusters, all characters, concepts etc. are the property of the individuals and/or companies that own the copyrights to them. This fanfic and all original characters/ideas etc. belong to me and my sometimes strange imagination.

This is my very first RGB slash fanfic so please be gentle. But please leave feedback if you have a spare moment, I'd really appreciate it!

Note: This fanfic will be censored from part 4 in various places due to the rating system on this site. You can read the uncensored version on my website. If you are unfamiliar with the terms yaoi or slash, or the concept of Peter and Egon together offends you... please avoid this fanfic!

**Part 1  
**   
Sometimes, there were days when Dr. Peter Venkman wished that he had chosen another line of work - anything other than Ghostbusting. On one of the few occasions that his father had ever bothered to say anything nice to him, it had been to praise him on his manipulative sweet talk. Why, he could have become a successful car salesman even! They made a lot in commission and the responsibilities for such a job were pretty low.

Anything but this!

Peter struggled to get to his feet, kicking a lone steel garbage can out of his way in the process. His brown Ghostbusters uniform was streaked with mud stains and torn at the knees, not to mention the spots of blood at the shins and elbows where he was most likely bleeding from the fall.

"Son of a --!" Peter gritted his teeth, biting down on his fury and keeping his temper in check. He needed to be calm and reasonable if he wanted to catch the little bastard that was still loose in the alleyway. Somewhere. But where had he gone? He pressed the earphone of his broken headset to his ear and spoke into the microphone. "Guys, did you get him?"

Dr. Egon Spengler, punctual as ever, was the first to respond. "Negative. This area is clear."

"Nope. Nothing." Winston Zeddemore confirmed from his position.

Dr. Raymond Stantz seemed to be in a more talkative mood. "If he didn't come through on our ends, he must still be in your area, Peter. Try using the PKE meter."

With a sardonic grin, Peter nudged the shattered device that lay on the dirty cement with the toe of his boot. "I thought about that myself, Ray, but that prick made short work of it."

"Losing your temper isn't going to help the situation, Pete," Winston advised from his end.

"I am_ not_ losing my temper!" Peter shut off his mic and aimed his thrower high, waving it in an arc to encompass the entire alley. "Okay, I'm going to ask you - nicely - to come out and surrender or else I'll start blasting apart this place until I nail you!" He increased the power output on his proton pack, ready to follow through on his threat if he didn't see some ectoplasm in action.

"Why don't we make a deal?" The creepy voice that had first taunted Peter with, 'shove it up your ass, Ghostbusting trash!', was now sounding worried.

Peter honed in on the source of the voice without moving, concentrating on his natural instincts to lead him to the bulls-eye. "What kind of deal?" He asked, feigning interest while his trigger finger itched to blast first and interrogate later.

"You let me go and as a show of gratitude, I watch your back from now on. Imagine ghosts and Ghostbusters working together as a ... team." The gravelly voice seemed to mask a snicker on that last word.

"You watch my back? Sounds interesting. What I want to know is if you are really sincere. Or maybe you're just desperate because you know we've got you surrounded." The corner of Peter's mouth turned up slightly as he gave the darkened alley his evilest grin.

"Screw you, Venkman!" The ghost edged closer, raising his voice in both anger and hysteria. "I'm offering you this deal as a benefit to us both. You accept, I walk out of here and you get yourself a part-time bodyguard."

"Contrary to what you ghoul-types seem to believe, I don't have_ that_ many enemies," Peter grumbled with a roll of his eyes.

"If you refuse..." The voice grew darker, almost as if it wanted to invoke Peter's imagination, but instead it continued. "Well, let's just say that I'll hold a very long and nasty grudge against you. You think what I did to you a few minutes ago was rough? Imagine what I might be capable of if you_ really_ piss me off!"

"Ohhh, I'm sooo scared. Shaking in my boots." Peter spun on his heel suddenly, whipping his thrower in the direction of the voice. When he came to an abrupt stop, the tip of his gun was pointed right between the eyes of a very nasty looking ghost. Big, purple, chunky... with a glare that had probably put weaker men into an early grave. "Now what, smartass?"

The ghost scowled at Peter, hatred swimming in his blood-red eyes. He was about to speak when Peters earphone broke the tense moment up with first static, and then a concerned voice.

"Peter, have you managed to get the situation under control? Do you require assistance?" Egon inquired in a very formal tone. Only the few people that really knew Egon would be able to hear the uncertainty in what he didn't say.

Recalling the way that he had been thrown into a heap of garbage and then dragged facedown from one end to the other, Peter forgot where he was for a moment. A vision of Egon being attacked by this violent ghost filled him with a cold dread. "NO! Stay where you are!" It had just been a reaction and his tone a direct reflection of it. But it had been a mistake.

"Co-worker?" The ghost asked casually, becoming overconfident once more to stretch and flex his bulbous ectoplasmic muscles. "That sure was a strange way to speak to just-a-co-worker." He smiled.

"You know, it's been swell and all but you really have to be going now." Peter clutched the thrower tighter and fired without warning, snagging the ghost in an array of blue, red and white lights that cackled with energy.

The purplish entity gave an indignant cry, struggling against the beam that had it lassoed around the middle. "You do this and when I get free I'll destroy you from the inside-out," he threatened.

"Fuck you!" Peter reached to the back of his proton pack with one hand... and realized that he didn't have a trap. "Shit," he hissed to himself.

"Well, what have we here?" The ghost cast a look over Peter's shoulder to where Egon had just appeared, miraculously holding a trap in his left hand and his powered-down thrower in his right.

"I figured that you had forgotten to empty your own trap, Peter." Egon hesitated, one eyebrow rising when his best friend turned back to give him a look that was a cross between fear and raw anger.

This beginning altercation was all the ghost needed to press his advantage. "Release me now, Venkman. Unless you want to be sharing that pretty blond with me." His smile grew as that particular innuendo had Peter's face reddening to the tips of his ears. "And believe me, after I've had my fun with him there won't be much to return."

"EGON! Stop standing there like an idiot and throw the trap!"

Egon jerked at the harsh way Peter had called his name but obediently flung the trap across the alleyway until it was directly beneath the suspended ghost.

"Hit it!"

Again, Egon responded, stomping down on the pedal with his foot and looking away from the blinding flash of light at the same time Peter did.

Within seconds, the ghost had disappeared and the trap automatically closed.

"Peter, would you care to explain what that was all about?" Egon adjusted his round red-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose and regarded his friend cautiously. Whether it was fortunate for him or not, he hadn't heard any of the ghost's threats from where he had been standing.

"_That_ was about you ignoring my orders! I told you to stay where you were!" He bent down to pick up the trap and stormed over to Egon, his emotions knotted in the pit of his stomach.

"And if I had done so, what would you have trapped the entity with? A trash can?" Egon calmly reached for the trap only to have his wrist seized by an enraged Peter. Apparently, Peter was not in the mood for rational conversations because he simply held onto Egon while stewing in his own bad mood. "Peter, please collect your thoughts and regain control of them. Otherwise, Ray and Winston are going to get the wrong impression when they come to check on us."

"You're afraid of what they might think?" Peter demanded, drawing Egon closer.

Those innocent, if not confused, light blue eyes met Peter's crazed green ones and held his gaze before returning their attention to the trap. Egon didn't understand what Peter was referring to. And how could he? It wasn't like Peter had ever treated him as anything other than a best friend.

"Yes, Peter. I'm concerned that they will actually be foolish enough to believe that you intended to hit me. You will upset Ray and Winston might actually decide to settle the score on my behalf."

Immediately, Peter let go, forcing his expression into a neutral straight-mouthed mask. "You know me better than that. I would never hit you... for any reason." He walked past Egon, heading for the main street.

"What I don't understand is how that entity managed to rile you up so perfectly," Egon mused. "And then why you would re-direct that frustration at me."

"Just having a bad day, Spengs. Nothing more to it than that." Peter didn't glance back, leaving the baffled physicist no choice but to silently follow him to where Ray and Winston were waiting.

**To be continued…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

Dammit!

Peter hoisted a heavy set of barbells above his head, lowered and repeated, all the while swearing to himself. He ignored the stinging pain of his bloody elbows and continued, sweat running down the sides of his face and gathering at his hairline. Boy was he ever royally ticked off!

Not only had a random spook managed to press all his buttons, but he'd also come too damn close to doing something to Egon that he might never have been able to retract. He could still feel that pulse beneath his fingertips, see the nervous flicker in those all-too-familiar blue eyes. The pursed frown of those full, soft lips. Shit! He had wanted to... would have... could have...

Peter slammed the barbells down and added two additional weights. He didn't want to think about this now. Needed to forget. Why hadn't Egon pulled away? Why was he so naïve and trusting? Why?! Tempting disaster.

"Peter?" Ray quietly entered Peter's miniature gym, holding a plateful of donuts as a peace offering. "I know that something has made you really angry and I just thought that donuts were a good idea. Stupid, huh?"

Peter laughed despite himself. "Donuts? While I'm working out?"

"Yeah. Stupid," Ray repeated.

"The only time you bring me stuff to eat is when you want to brace me for bad news. So what's up?"

Not one to disappoint, Ray came straight out with it. "We're operating at a deficit, Peter. Yesterday's bust cost us fifteen miles in gas, about a hundred for the replacement of your uniform, Egon is still calculating whether it will be more cost effective to replace that broken PKE meter as opposed to repairing it. Ecto-1 needs to go in for a tune-up, both Winston and Janine are waiting on last month's pay checks..."

Peter froze with a cream-filled donut hanging out of his mouth, distastefully dropping it back onto the plate. "For crying out loud, don't give me all the bad news at once."

"We need financial investors. Long-term investors that will enable us to catch up on the bills."

"For how long?"

"Until we're able to start pulling in a profit. We were doing great last year but all of the upgrades on the containment unit, the need to rebuild Ecto-3, and all of our individual expenses kinda got out of hand."

"But we've tried this before, Ray. It didn't work," Peter reminded his friend with a sour grin.

"Maybe if we approached it from a different angle. We usually pick up fly-by-night investors who pay to sponsor our commercials and poster campaigns. Those guys bail out as soon as we receive criticism from the press. I think that if we focused on sponsors in our own community... well it'd be a nice change of pace."

Peter nodded thoughtfully, already concocting a scheme that would attract several investors if necessary. This wasn't the first time that the business had gone into the red. "What does Egon think about all this?" He asked casually.

"Egon..." Ray wrung his hands together and shrugged. "He didn't say much. Actually, neither of you did after that bust yesterday. Winston and I were kinda wondering why you two seem to be…" He trailed off, letting Peter connect the dots for himself.

"In another fight?" Peter sighed. "Egon and I don't have fights, you should know that by now. We have... 'disagreements'."

"And every time you two fight, Winston and I are the ones who suffer," Ray complained. "The last time you ticked Egon off, he took his experiments to the bathroom. And we all know that the first person to use the shower that night wasn't you." He cringed at the humiliating memory of having to tear out of the bathroom in nothing but a shower cap.

"Ray, Ray, Ray," Peter began in soothing tone, "you'd better not let Egon overhear you referring to his experiments as a means of revenge. His ego would be insulted by what he considers to be Neanderthal behavior."

"About the investors...?" Ray quickly moved the conversation back onto its original track.

"Leave that to me. I'll have New York's rich and infamous at our doorstep within a week."

**Three weeks later…**

With a lot of coaxing, begging, and shameless self promotion, Peter had finally managed to draw in a few potential investors. Getting them in the front door was the most difficult part because one of the ladies had caught a glimpse of Slimer darting out of Janine's desk and racing off into another room. It wasn't exactly the right way to start off a good business relationship.

"Gentlemen... ladies, this way please." Peter ushered the three men and two ladies into the kitchen to where Ray had laid out all the necessary paperwork on top of the kitchen table. Winston was in the process of pouring some freshly brewed coffee into a line of mismatched mugs along the countertop. Egon sat to one end of the table, browsing through a portfolio from one of the investor's companies. Judging by the painfully stiff way that Egon held his posture in check, he was probably not going to approve of that particular investor. "This is Dr. Raymond Stantz, Winston Zeddemore, and Dr. Egon Spengler." Peter intentionally introduced Egon last in order to give his colleague a few precious seconds to recompose his expression.

Egon nodded graciously but didn't smile. It wouldn't have fit in with his character anyway.

The five guests pulled up chairs at the table and began to rifle through their individual booklets that Ray had put together. Only one of the men dared to sample Winston's coffee. One of the ladies tapped the cup cautiously with her newly painted fingernails but chose not to pick it up.

"These figures don't look very promising," one of the men – a coffee shop franchise owner – commented. "Your business has been steadily declining... for the past 5 months."

"A mere setback due to the fluctuating cycle of ectoplasm that is now in the process of rejuvenation. I predict that, given our current readings and previous encounters with similar 'dry spells', the level of ectoplasm output will triple within the next few days." Egon adjusted his glasses, set his reading material back down on the table and frowned.

"What the hell did he just say?"

Winston pushed away from where he had been leaning on a nearby chair, arms folded across his chest, and smirked. "That was Egon's way of telling us that business is gonna be booming again in no time!"

"That predicted boom isn't reflected in your savings account," Ms. Harrison, the owner of a local fitness center, commented skeptically.

"If you would take a look at page 4 that contains last year's records from our savings account, you'll notice that we had well over thirty grand for a period of seven months." Ray did his best to defend their earnings, hoping that they wouldn't ask where that wonderfully large chunk of income had disappeared to.

Nathan Calistan, by far the wealthiest of the bunch, turned his chair away from Ray as if that piece of information was completely worthless to him. He directed the next question at Egon. "Dr. Spengler, how do you intend to save this business from bankruptcy? Another few days and this place will be up-for-sale, ectoplasm or no ectoplasm." He chuckled heartily at the Ghostbusters' misfortune, knowing fully well that they were in no position to bargain. "You're offering us a shoddy five-percent return on our investments. The risks are far too high to consider touching this place with a low five-percent incentive."

"Mr. Calistan, I assure you that the data speaks for itself. On top of the five-percent, we will also be promoting your business alongside our own as well as referring our existing clients to your... establishment." Egon's eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion before he coolly returned his gaze to the man in the gaudy business suit. "I seem to have forgotten your area of expertise..."

"Video rental shop," Calistan replied with a smug grin. "I'm sure that you've seen my financial statement."

"Hmm... it's quite lucrative for a video rental shop."

Peter had been content to let Egon handle the discussion up until that point. He could hear something in Egon's tone that made him nervous. Obviously, the physicist had done more research on Calistan than he was letting on. Regardless of whatever Calistan did on the sidelines, his company had come up clean. If they ended the day without at least one of these people signing on as an investor... the Ghostbusters would end up blasting ghosts with water pistols while riding tricycles.

"You're always welcome to stop by the shop and have a look." Calistan's fierce dark eyes narrowed on Egon, who suddenly cleared his throat and sought out eye contact with Peter instead. They exchanged a look that meant a mutual understanding, the altercation from three weeks prior already long forgotten.

If Calistan was making Egon uncomfortable, that meant it was time for Peter to take control. "Unfortunately, it's running a little late and we have to wake up early tomorrow for another meeting. We would like to close this deal as smoothly and professionally as we can so if there are any specific questions that you have... either financial or paranormal, now is your chance to ask them." Peter carefully avoided looking at Calistan in a desperate bluff to force the man into either signing up or getting out. He seemed to be interested enough but for some reason was holding back. It might have been a ploy to get them to raise the percentage or maybe he was just being a jackass. Peter hated dealing with assholes.

"Well, if I'm going to be coming here frequently I hope that you intend to fix the air conditioner. It's stifling in here." Calistan took note of the flickering light bulb over the kitchen sink and shook his head emphatically. He had flipped through his booklet to the page which held the contract and was in the process of scratching out the five-percent and replacing it with fifteen-percent.

Winston gave Peter an incredulous look from across the table but didn't say a word when Peter glared back. They were desperate after all. None of the other members had made any attempt to so much as touch that portion of the booklet. They had already been put off by the income tax report.

As if on cue, the rest of the lights in the kitchen flickered... and then everything went black.

"Argh!" Peter screamed in fright when something touched his arm, falling out of his chair in the darkness.

"Peter, it's me." Ray said.

"What happened?" Ms. Harrison shrieked. "I can't see a thing!"

"There is no need for alarm. We have a backup generator," Egon responded calmly. He rationalized that the best thing to do in such a situation was to remain seated in his chair and wait for the lights to come back on. 2. 3. 5 minutes passed by but nothing happened. "Ray," he called out in an even tone.

"I know. But we don't have any flashlights in here," Ray answered Egon's unspoken urge to check the containment unit. Whenever they had any sort of problem with the power, they always verified the security of the containment unit in the basement first and foremost.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please remain calm. We have the situation perfectly under control," Peter announced in a relaxed and confident tone. Although it didn't come across too effectively after his dramatic chair trick a few minutes earlier had put everyone in the room at unease. "Egon, are you okay?"

There was a pause before Egon answered in an irritated tone. "I'm fine, Peter."

"What should we do?"

"Unfortunately, I am rather low on suggestions due to my current lack of sight. Winston, would you kindly retrieve some candles from underneath the kitchen sink."

"Uh... you mean the ones that Slimer ate last week?" Winston grimaced when Egon muttered something incomprehensible to himself.

xxxx

From inside the containment unit, a presence burned with hatred, hovering near the exit like a bloodhound that could not be dissuaded from its prey. It lurked and waited, not moving, restlessly biding its time with thoughts of revenge. Peter Venkman would pay dearly for entrapping him in this hellish prison. He might have gone crazy days ago, locked away in this meaningless prison, if it hadn't been for his thirst for vengeance. Engraved in his memory was the fear etched onto that weak mortal's face upon the arrival of the other Ghostbuster. The fear of something happening to his precious 'friend'. Something horribly unspeakable.

He wanted to see that expression again. Only this time, he would multiply it. Force Peter to suffer an eternity of regret and agony as his beloved 'friend' lay crumpled at his feet. He would take that blonde-haired pale slender body and tear it apart piece by piece.

The unimaginable torment that he could inflict on the one that had been called 'Egon'... just thinking about it gave him delightful shivers.

From somewhere outside the containment unit, the power flickered.

He felt it and bolted upright, eagerly watching the energy field that bound him to this insufferable makeshift jail falter. For a brief millisecond, the field collapsed around an area that couldn't have been larger than the circumference of a ping pong ball. It was all he needed. With all the fury he had been building up, he darted for the opening, squeezing through in a sliver of ooze.

Just as soon as the last physical essence of his being crammed itself through the hole, it miraculously sealed itself again, re-stabilizing the integrity of the field the instant the backup generator finally kicked in. But already, it was too late.

He charged into freedom, reappearing in the pitch black deserted basement of Ghostbusters Central. From above, he could hear hushed voices and nervous whispers. Something had happened. Something good. He smiled to himself as he shot through the old floorboards to come up in what appeared to be the reception area. Behind one of the walls, the muted arguing continued. In amongst the chaotic voices, he could distinguish Peter's bullshit crowd-pleasing pleasantness trying to regain control. They were shooting insults back and forth over the power blackout and the lack of a financial future for the Ghostbusters. The five humans that were not Ghostbusters seemed to have it in for their hosts.

"Where did my booklet go?" Calistan was patting down the table in front of him, desperately searching for the paper that he had idiotically scrawled his signature across.

From across the table, Peter sat on the contract, keeping it well out of harm's reach. They needed an investor, blackout or no blackout, and he was not going to let Calistan retract the business deal.

"I don't want to spend one more minute in this horrible building!" Ms. Harrison whined. "Will somebody please see me to the door?!"

"Ma'am, we can't see anymore than you can," Ray apologized. "If you would just remain calm.."

"I will _not_ remain calm!"

"Perhaps if we were to follow the wall along to Janine's desk we would be able to locate a spare flashlight," Egon suggested.

"I'll go with you," Calistan volunteered.

"Please don't trouble yourself." Egon pushed his chair back, started to stand... and was suddenly struck down by what might have been an enormous gust of wind as an invisible blob sailed past him to burrow itself into Calistan's body.

"What the hell was that?" Peter gasped as a loud bang sounded followed by various articles crashing onto the floor, some of which might have been glass.

"Peter! Egon just fell... or slipped." Winston dropped to his knees, searching the floor with his hands until he located Egon's face. "I think he's unconscious."

"Where is he?" Peter crashed around to the other side of the table, banging his shin on one of the table legs and swearing through the pain. "Did he hit his head or something?"

"There's no blood."

"Could be a concussion. Don't move him until..." Ray blinked as the lights flickered back on, bathing the kitchen in an unbearably bright yellow light.

As Peter managed to get his bearings to locate Egon's still form lying on the linoleum next to a fallen chair, his heart froze upon witnessing the swelling bruise on his friend's temple. Not only did it look particularly nasty, marring the otherwise pale skin, it also seemed to have left purple slime oozing into Egon's hairline. Whatever had hit Egon, it hadn't been human. And what was worse, that purple slime looked all too familiar to Peter.

**To be continued…**


End file.
